


Kraken's tentacles! I`m...

by LoonyFred



Category: Black Sails, Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyFred/pseuds/LoonyFred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Flint and his boatswain know how to pass the time, spending the night on a lone atoll in the middle of a god damn ocean. [timeline 1.01]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kraken's tentacles! I`m...

**Kraken’s tentacles! I`m…**

_No, that’s totally not what Hal Gates meant when entrusting me with restraining the captain, should he go too far…_

That was my line of thinking as I loaded half-dead Richard Guthrie onto my shoulder like a sack of grain. 

“You better be gentle with him,” Flint dropped casually.

_Is he fucking serious or just getting on my nerves, I wonder?_

Well, that’s all Gates’ fault, I’ve warned him, haven’t I? Told him Flint doesn’t give a flying fuck about my opinion, and that’s exactly what’s happened. On the other hand, well, I was lucky to go instead of Hal, cause I could handle the soldiers far better.

The captain and I had to stick to the shadows cast by the sprawling palm leaves, to hide from the moonlight. Richard came to his senses a couple of times, moaning from pain, which completely sabotaged our stealth plan. Having almost made it to the beach, we needed to separate for the time being, so that Flint could get the boat out of sight and far away from the pier. We just couldn’t risk letting any curious eye notice there were three of us getting in the boat.

Waiting for Flint, we rested, leaning to a thick round palm trunk. Mr. Guthrie was moaning loudly, so I had to cover his mouth with my hand. Flint got back soon and then lead me to the hideaway where he’d left the boat. I was breathing heavily, weary of my burden, but tried to keep up with the captain anyway. I loaded unconscious Richard Guthrie into the boat and we hurried to set sail.

Lady Luck turned her back on us, as there was a dead calm, so we had to row intensely if we had to move at all. We didn’t talk. A couple hours passed, and we started running out of stamina. The captain decided we should spend the night on one of the numerous desert atolls, which we came across on our way from time to time. So we did. 

We left Mr. Guthrie in a boat, which tied to a palm tree, and, having eagerly shed our blistering boots, we made ourselves comfortable on the sand. Still so warm from all the sunlight absorbed, it accepted our tired aching backs into its softness.

There was no point in standing guard: no sane man would come looking for us at this hour as there were thousands of such tiny islands scattered across the ocean, and we could be hiding on any of them. So we both stretched on the sand side by side. Flint lay to the left of me with his eyes shut. I had no idea, if he was asleep or not, and just couldn’t help, but turn my head towards him, gazing at my captain’s face in a manner which I suspected would look quite inappropriate, should he ever notice my eager attention. His profile was particularly well-defined in the moonlight. I kept staring at his half-open mouth, unable to cast my glare away.

 _No, that’s not what Gates meant when he told me to restrain this Davy Jones_ , I thought, listening for my own frequent heavy breaths, keeping my burning gaze locked onto Flint’s face. When he suddenly turned to me, I gave a start, almost touching the grip of my pistol. But the captain smiled reassuringly, so I let my guards down. 

We kept staring at each other. For a long-long time. And with every next moment I felt more and more like I was going to pass out – so unbearable was the intensity of Flint’s heart-searching look and so irresistibly assured was the smirk on his most desired lips. I longed to kiss those lips, lick them, and bite them. I needed to grab his shoulders, which I found slender and fragile compared to my own. I wanted this man pressed tightly to my chest, with my fierce kisses making him forget all the troubles. Oh, Lord, should this man ever be in my arms… Oh, my! The seventh heaven would come crashing down on me!

The soldiers, Guthrie’s arrest, the Spanish gold – blast it all! I suddenly realized no woes that had yet to come mattered here and now. What mattered were the wondrous night, and the darkest sky full of stars, and the warmest sand, on which I lay next to Flint, looking him in the eyes. I shivered at the thought of how little I needed to be the happiest man on Earth: him breathing beside me, and no one near to interrupt our silent conversation.

Flint seemed to be crawling closer. I nervously gasped for air, cheeks burning, heart pumping vigorously.  
“By Davy Jones, Captain… I implore you…” I whispered under breath, and in a trice, he vaulted one leg over my torso, straddling my hips forcefully and looking downright in triumph. He leaned in and the locks of his hair tickled my forehead, but all I could do was just stare at those lips, glistening so lusciously in the moonlight, daring to be tasted and savored… I knew it was going to happen… shit… it was already happening, and the anticipation only made the moment sweeter, so I lay still with wide eyes gazing closely at the captain… 

_Mere inches from heaven…_

He chuckled, and then tightened his grip over my hips, like sides of a horse. I felt blood rushing to my face; with a loud moan, I closed my eyes by instinct. And the very next moment I could feel the heat and the wetness of Flint’s kiss, salty as the sea itself.

My burning chest was like a volcano erupting with torrents of hot lava. I could barely breathe as the captain was doing it all to me, all those things I could only dream of while jerking off quickly during the night’s watch, alone and unnoticed. But never have I hoped for the reality of it: Flint’s palms caressing my bare skin under the shirt, and me hastily helping him get rid of his clothing, so redundant and irritating. 

He threw both shirts into the sand and leaned in again, brushing his lips over my naked chest, tickling the skin with his his moustache. He took his time, placing one wet kiss after another, listening to my loud moans and whimpers. I couldn’t help it: joy and shame overflowed me at the thought that there was a witness of our pleasures lying right there in the boat.

_Shiver my timbers, just how confident and incredible this man’s touches are!_

He pinched my right nipple, and I cried out loud, kicking my groin up, desperate to grind it against his rock solid cock pushing out through the thick leather of his trousers. Flint roughly ripped my pants off and stared at my thick firm erected cock with a self-satisfied grin. I rested on my elbows, looking back at the captain, blushing deeply. And the more I was losing my nerves, the wider grew Flint’s grin. He was in no hurry at all; he took his time, caressing the skin on my belly with his fingertips. His gaze, full of lust, smut and obscenity, only made me shyer, my face surely turning as red as a beetroot. 

I was on fire, couldn’t wait for him to touch me right there. I moaned, and whined in sweet anticipation. When Flint finally placed a firm gripped on cock, I gave out a primal roar, my whole body shaking forcefully. It took only a couple fast movements until I couldn’t bare it any longer and released all over his hand. Such shame! How could I go down in flames like that? I wanted to disappear, seize to exist, but not look him in the eyes after such a reprehensible fiasco. But what the captain did next cast all the thoughts about the humiliation away: Flint took his hand up to his mouth and licked the drops of my semen off, casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. He then leaned in and covered my cock with his lips, kissing and licking it until I was hard again. He teased me with long movements of his tongue curling around my shaft, slowly crawling upwards to the very tip of my member. The pleasure was too agonizing, and the sweet torture seemed to be lasting for eternity.  
My head was empty, all thoughts abandoned it leaving only his name which I would whimper out, entranced, with each moan my voice getting louder and louder. Never before had I the courage to call the man by his first name. But tonight pouring into my captain’s mouth, I shouted from the top of my lungs:  
“James! Oh! Oh, Devil! Oh, James…”

I hadn’t had a single drop of rum, yet felt disoriented and dizzy. Flint’s kisses … bemusing… intoxicating… they made me feel so good, but then there was this weird hunger rising from the depth of my soul, storming inside eager to rush through with each lingering touch of my captain. I suddenly realized: I wanted to caress him, too. Wanted James to toss and turn on this very sand biting his lips from all the pleasure I’d give him. I wanted him to feel good. So good, he’d forget himself in the feverish sweetness.

I raised my hand from the sandy pillow and glanced at Flint. Pushing my whole body up, I grabbed the captain by his waist bringing him closer. He sat with his legs crossed behind my beltline, and I was losing my breath, radiating happiness as I kissed him on his temple, and behind the ear, going down the neck, tasting his salty skin and listening to his sweet abrupt gasps. I started caressing his back, carefully at first, and then pressed harder, feeling him shiver under my touch. I placed a trail of kisses onto his shoulders, slender, but firm. I didn’t quite believe it was all really happening. Was I, indeed, the lucky one to have this gorgeous man in my arms? Wasn’t it all just a dream? Too good to be true. Too sweet…

“Billy!” he called my name, his voice demanding and capricious. I grabbed him firmly by his waist and pressed even harder against my bare chest, propping my erection against his groin.

Flint rested his head on my shoulder, his breath wavy and hot. I supported his weight by the hips. Compared to Richard, the captain felt like a feather. I gave in to a sudden instinct, rushed forward and threw him onto his back, covering with my own body. I wanted to push him deeper into the sand, roughly, brutally, dominantly. Wanted… no, needed to drive Flint mad with joy, so that he’d scream, unable to bear the pleasure I was going to give him.

“Billy?” I’d never heard his voice sound so dubious, almost shy. The captain kept licking his lips in obvious agitation, his eyes dark with lust, covered with the locks of his ginger hair. It was the first time I’d seen him undone like this. Swear by Kraken, I loved him like never before.

I straddled Flint, letting him feel my weight. Something very weird was going on with the captain, I could barely recognize him lying like that, biting his lips in agony, gasping for air as I toyed with his nipples squeezing them gently between my fingertips, and as I kissed the pit between his collarbones, and got higher, placing firm kisses along his neck, one after another.

“You deceitful piece of scum! I so fucking love you!” I exhaled right into Flint’s ear, and he suddenly shuddered in my arms, pushing forward as if trying to melt himself into me.

“Billy!” he moaned again.

I bit my lip. Fuck! What did I just say? Fucking moron!

“Courage, Billy!”, his voice broke my trance. Flint’s gaze was full of demand, but there was a reassuring smile on his face. He spread his knees, which looked a lot like an invitation. I spit on my palm. Moisturized the cock with my saliva. Flint took it in his hands helping me to position myself. I thought it would be easier to enter, if his legs were up my shoulders, so I just grabbed him by the hips and dragged upwards. Flint gave a startled groan, but relaxed the very next moment and moved forward towards my pressure.

_Poseidon’s trident me in the eye, I’m doing the Captain!_

I couldn’t take the mesmerized glare off Flint’s face, beloved and marvelous. His eyelids trembled, and his eyebrows would go up so appealingly with each thrust. I bit his lips, trying to catch every breath, every sigh and gasp. I would silently beg all the sea gods I knew to make me last longer. Please, please, don’t let me go off to soon. 

They must have heard me. 

_Deo gratias!*_

I supported Flint by his right ankle, having my left arm propped against the sand just near the captain’s ear. I stretched my thumb out and caressed his cheek eliciting his pleasurable moan.

_Kraken’s tentacles! I’m doing the Captain!_

It wasn’t his first time, for sure. I got it instantly by the way Flint’s body reacted to my heavy thrusts: without a slightest bit of resistance, he was swaying his hips towards me, confidently, with perfect precision, helping me enter at the very special angle, so that with each thrust he’d be overwhelmed with sweet sensations and raw pleasure. He knew exactly where I had to hit him. I was taking him like that, and move harder and with more force, and when I did so, he whined, the pitch of his voice unusually high. I took him faster, and deeper, digging my teeth into his firm salty neck and whispering some silly enamoured rubbish into his ear.

_Jesus Christ and Holy Mother of God! I`m really fucking my captain!_

I was giving him a fast handjob, in time with my hungry thrusts, Flint desperately gasped for air, losing himself completely to the primal bliss, almost roaring as he shuddered with his whole body and sprinkled first drops of his semen onto his belly and a bit on his chest before releasing the whole lot onto my fingers, still firmly wrapped around his cock. I felt a hungry self-assured grin grow all over my face as I thrust even harder, supporting the captain by his hips, and he rushed forward so that I could dig deeper into him all the way to the hilt. 

Flint petted my cheek, ruffled my hair at the back of the head and pressed, making me lean forward. He found my lips and caught me in a deep kiss. I slid my tongue into his mouth and the moment the captain started sucking it gently, I knew I was going to come again. My thrusts were now frantic and haste, but Flint kept swaying his hips so wonderfully, accepting me ever so deep.  
I was all shaking as I came inside him, sealing him into this beach underneath us, thrust after thrust, rubbing him against the sand. He took all my weight springily, and when I was done, he cast his legs down and stretched his body, pulling me towards him and letting my head rest on his shoulder. I couldn’t catch my breath, still not realising fully what it was that had just happened between us and whether it was actually real. What if I’d had a stroke and hallucinated about having sex with the captain? What if it was all just a dream?

Yet here he was, Flint, in my arms, breathing a bit more steadily than me, but also completely exhausted. His lashes trembled, his mouth wide open, and I couldn’t help but kiss him again. The captain was looking up at the sky and didn’t seem to react to my caresses. I kissed him nonetheless, on his lips, on his cheeks, along the jaw line and behind his ear. Flint pretended to not pay any attention to it, but he didn’t stop my foolish tender impulsions, just waiting for me to wear myself out and fall asleep.

The sun was high in the sky when I woke up, covered with two jackets: my own and the captain’s. I quickly found Flint with my eyes, by the boat, busy with the ropes. My first thought was to rush to him, hold him tight – and then come what may. I hurried up, and that’s when he gave me the look, and it was enough for me to realize that the night had long gone, and so had the frivolous pleasures. The consequences of yesterday were ahead of us: the arrest of the trade boss, the Navy, some Spanish gold… 

Flint’s captaincy. The mere thought of it gave me the creeps and made my heart sink.

_Jesus, let Gates succeed with the votes! He’s the master in it, ain’t he?_

I cringed at the thought of Flint stripped of his position or even losing his place in the crew. I knew now I had no other way but to be with this man. Always. Whatever the cost.

_You son of a bitch, why do I love you so much?_

I quickly got dressed and approached him. Timid, I stretched out the hand with his jacket in it. With a smile he took it and then gave me a very strict look. And warned me:  
“Not a word, Billy.”

I got it. Not a single word. Not to him, not to myself, not to – Jesus Almighty – Gates. Did he really think I’d mention something like that to anyone? I certainly wouldn’t. But Mr. Guthrie, he could. I chuckled. Flint looked at me asquint, so I hurried to get the smile off my face

On our way to the “Walrus”, my desire was so unbearable, almost ripping me apart. I had to look away avoiding the sight of the captain for as long as I could, but it was literally impossible not to feast my eyes on him, praying for nothing else in the whole world, but to a single chance to hold him again, hands crawling under his shirt, and kiss his mouth, cheeks, temples, eyelids…

_Shit! Shit!_

But Flint was clear on this: the lustful adventure is over, and I wouldn’t risk to disobey. I would still glance at him out of the corner of my eye. And when I saw him take Richard’s rings off his fingers in a hurry, it distressed me. What was he going to do? Could he be robbing Guthrie before sending him to his last journey down the ocean pit?

“What are you doing?” I asked with suspicion. 

So Flint told me about the consequences that should follow Mr. Guthrie’s arrest, that soon the port of Nassau had no choice but to become completely illegitimate, and that he didn’t want the men to be distracted by “minor” inconveniences as this one. He needed them focused on the Urca gold.  
But wait a second. Hadn’t we lost the schedule?

I got into tantrum. Did this son of a bitch really suggest we hide such ill prospects from our brothers? Should we lead them to some obscure goal, like a flock of sheep? Should we cajole them with fancy tales and more lies? No fucking way! I’d never let him do it!

I knew Singleton’s name would provoke Flint, but couldn’t hold myself and blurted out something about us needing a change. Flint sprung to his feet – I whipped out my knife. He smirked before saying very calmly:  
“Think carefully. What lies ahead, Mr. Singleton cannot see you through”.  
“And what is that?” I could realize how silly I looked to him: as if I was really able to cut him? Ho! Ho! Ho! Very funny! And Flint knew it, too.  
“There’s a war coming, Billy,” he continued not even slightly worried about the knife, as if there was none at all.  
“One ship isn’t a war!”  
“One ship isn’t what’s coming,” he smirked. “Than man Hume, captain of the “Scarborough” told you as much. When the king brands us pirates, he doesn’t mean to make us adversaries; he doesn’t mean to make us criminals. He means to make us monsters…”

He kept talking and talking, taking one step after another, closing in on me, until he finally grabbed me by my side, just below my right armpit. I took his words in with half an ear, because it was impossible not to think about his irresistibly pink lips, dry and a bit cracked in the sun, but still so alluring.

“… unite behind our own king!” I caught just the end of his phrase.  
“We have no kings here,” I argued, and his dark mighty stare made me all hot and sweaty.  
“I am your king!” he whispered, and at that very moment I fully realized the whole graveness of my situation: I may have fucked Flint last night, but he totally had me. The cunning motherfucker. What could I argue? Did I have any choice?

We climbed up the ladder, I came up second, my eyes devouring Flint’s full hips covered with tight leather of his trousers. I lost my breath and almost whimpered with self-pity. I wanted him. For fuck’s sake, it felt like I was cursed to want him. Forever. 

Singleton was celebrating. Did he get the votes? No shit! This bastard! How could this have happened? Hadn’t Gates’ coins clunk loudly enough the day before? 

I didn’t know what to do, where to go. I was ashamed of myself: the events of the night came rushing through my mind, but how could I even think of it, when the man I loved was about to lose his captaincy, or worse, killed, should it come to the combat. 

_Jesus, help him!_

At the thought Flint fighting Singleton my heart froze: the captain stood no chance against the butcher. I could swear by sea unicorns, Flint had never ripped so many bellies open and cut off so many heads, as Singleton had in his life. And more, the captain didn’t get much sleep at night, so…  
_For fuck’s sake, Billy Bones! Just. Stop. It. Quit thinking about shagging the captain!_  
Things got nasty afterwards, as if Satan himself had a hand in the matters: Flint provoked Singleton to a fight. 

_Are you fucking suicidal?_

My heart was bleeding when Singleton knocked the captain off his feet. And it happened so fast.  
_No, no, no. Hold on, Flint! Devil take your soul, will you fight back already?! Hit him!_  
Nothing in the world was worse than this feeling of total helplessness. I wanted to rush forward, slit Singleton’s throat open, but for the articles… But for the fucking articles…

_Don’t give up, you, bitch!_

I doubled my fists in anger, watching Singleton hang over the captain, ready to pierce him with his broken cutlass. I watched Flint struggle, baring his teeth; I saw the blade bite through the skin of his palms, the very ones that I was kissing last night with such bliss.

_Come on, you fucker! Don’t you dare give up and leave me like this! Come ON!_

It all happened in a blink of an eye: Flint stunned Singleton with a gun ball and pressed him to the deck. My heart was still racing as I started to creep closer to the fighters watching the captain turn into berserk as he beat the fuck out of his rival’s skull. Singleton had already passed out, may be even croaked. But Flint kept pummeling, until it was clear: the deed was done.

I shivered nervously, glaring at the captain’s face, drenched in blood, still unable to stop reminiscing about the night we spent together, and how he would shake and close his eyes when I placed tender kisses on his eyelids. Weird it was – looking at his enraged face and still dreaming of cupping it in my hands, softly, until he catches his breath and comes to his senses. I didn’t do it, of course, though I’d got too close to him already.

Flint was holding out some bloodstained piece of paper, his fingers shaking, his eyes almost begging me for help. As if saying: “Well, Billy, now it’s your turn. Will you do as promised?”

Of course, I never promised him a thing.

Of course, the page was blank. It took me half a second to get to the essence of his frame: Flint provoked Singleton, accused him of theft and killed him. Well, dead men don’t bite, do they? And after I profess that the schedule was found, not a single soul on this ship would give a shit about Singleton.

Thoughts came running through my head like a hurricane, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the captain. He and I… both of us knew exactly what I was going to say.

“It’s the stolen page”.

**Author's Note:**

> *Thank god! (Latin)


End file.
